Ferris Wheel
by CodyRhodesFan
Summary: It's a normal day in a fair. Or supposed to be. The Miz is pulled in a ride with the last two people he wants to, John Morrison and John Cena. Oh joy. And they team up to make this the worst day of Miz's life…John Cena/The Miz/John Morrison SLASH. Updated
1. Walking

**I'm supposed to be working on '**_**Torn'**_** or something but no…I just had to work on this. Yeah, you noticed that the two genres I put for this story are completely and utterly opposite of each other. What? I've seen those two genres together before. I hate you, **_**TheMizMagnet**_**; you made me love Miz fiction too much. But seriously, more Miz fiction will make me happy. **

**Even if I have to write it.**

**Anyways, so this is a triangle and I really, really need help from you guys…I love them both too much but I don't know what to choose. Mizena or Mizorrison? TELL ME!**

* * *

**Ferris Wheel**  
_Chapter One_: John Morrison & The Miz: _**Walking**_

* * *

_**6:00 AM**__; wake up_

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep…_

Mike groaned as he threw the clock to the floor. _Stupid clock. Why the hell do I still have that thing anyways?_ The clock was ready to break at the impact of the fall and he wished that it would and he tried to go back to sleep but his eyes were halfway open; the tiredness was ready to make his eyes drop and when he was finally able to shut his slightly awake eyes, he heard the sound of the phone ringing.

When his screen flashed, he saw the time and his heart was about to skip a beat. _6:00 AM_. Mike's eyes widened. _Six? What the fuck? Who's calling me is a dead man! _

"Hello?" his voice was raspy and he didn't try to make it sound any softer.

"_Damn, I woke you up?"_

"Yes, you have seven days to live by the way."

"_You haven't figured out who I am, did you?"_

"…Santa Clause?"

A chuckle that was all too familiar. He knew this person. Mike knew that but he couldn't register in the thoughts in the morning.

"_Yeah, sure, Santa Clause will be calling you at 6 in the morning in June."_

"I know that sarcasm from somewhere."

"_I'm giving you time to figure out who I am…"_

"…"

"_Mike?"_

"…Angelina Jolie?"

"_Yes, Angelina Jolie is calling you in 6 in the morning…and she sounds like a guy…"_

"Your point is?"

"_MIKE!"_

"Let's not play games in the morning when I'm planning on how I'm gonna kill you."

"_It's the Shaman of Sexy, the Friday Night Delight, John Morrison."_

"What the hell are you doing calling me at this time? You, of all people. You know how bitchy I am in the morning."

"_Yeah, sadly, I do."_

"What's that supposed to mean…? And why in hell's name are you waking me up at this time?"

"_Guess who's in town?"_

"Let me guess. The Doors?"

"_No! But are they?"_

"MORRISON!"

"_The State Fair! You used to love going there, don't you? From what I remember, it's one of those times that you're happy and not bitching out about something that isn't right! You going this year?"_

"…why are you calling me again?"

"_Mike, I know you're angry-"_

"Angry? I'm pissed off. What's the deal with all the stuff you fucking said about me?! What, you think you can just insult me in front of everyone and call me the next day and pretend that nothing's wrong?"

"_Mike…calm down…"_

"I am calm!"

He wasn't and he knew it. His blood stirred so violently into his body. Curses being shouted inside of his head.

"_Yeah, and I'm Cinderella…"_

"And what's the deal with that Mizerella junk?! What happened to us, you bastard? What happened to you—?"

"_Mike, please, calm down…"_

"I. Am. Calm!"

"_Mike…"_

"I'm calm! DAMMIT!"

Mike took deep breaths before he clutched his stomach and pressed his body close to the walls.

"…_let me ask you again. Are you going to the fair, Mike? Because that's the only reason I called you. I was just seeing if you were in that same good mood you always are when you figure that out-"_

"Depends, are you going to be there?"

An edge to Mike's voice and he knew it. He intentionally strengthened that edge in his voice.

"_I don't know. I probably am. I mean, it's a tradition by now, right?"_

"I don't want to be in the same state as you! Not go out so we can magically 'work out our problems'. I don't have a problem. YOU DO!"

"_Excuse me…I don't sing stupid, cliché songs in the shower!"_

"It was one time!"

"_It was Britney Spears!"_

Mike flushed pink and he was too glad that this was a phone conversation as he placed a hand on his pounding head. Why the hell was he spending time with this? He could be asleep now.

"…_no comments, Mizanin?"_

"No. No comments."

Mike slammed the phone shut and hoped back into his bed, ready to fall asleep again but he couldn't. _Great. Just great. Just what I need!_ But he knew that John Morrison was right. This was one of the rare times in the year in which he wasn't complaining about anything. He was always cheerful, that was right, always a little child, too true but this day used to be so special to him. This fair used to be the light of his existence. He just loved it. He loved the smell of the air; he loved the energetic hype that he'd always get as he'd go around collecting candy (he was always energetic but this time, he'd been even more energetic, that was proved to be impossible but he did it) and he felt impelled to do so.

He pulled the covers on top of him but in ten minutes, he kicked the covers off and went inside of the shower to do his morning bidding. _Stupid Morrison. Stupid life. Stupid clock_.

How can one clock make so much noise?

As Mike went back to close the clock, to turn out the noise, he was about to throw the clock in the trash but that wasn't enough to tune down the noise.

He'd play around with the screw driver but then again, he didn't know which button or whatever was the one to mute the damn thing.

He can't get rid of the clock. He just can't.

He didn't know why he couldn't get rid of the clock from Hell.

He just can't.

* * *

_**6:30 AM**__; walking_

* * *

The sun was shining.

The birds were chirping.

The clouds were scattered all around the blue sky.

_But_ it seemed like the sun was dull.

_But_ it seemed like it was a song of horror that the birds were singing.

_But_ it felt like the sky was gray.

He shook his head as he walked down the road and Mike didn't know why the world seemed so bitter today—this was supposed to be one of the best days of the freaking year and he was hiding behind a fake smile…why?

He heard the sound of panting from behind him and saw _oh joy_ John Morrison jogging right beside him and when Mike stopped walking, John started too, "what happened to the fact that you're not going to the fair?"

"I'm not in the mood," Mike snapped.

John stared at him, his face crumpling. "What happened to you? You used to be excited even if I mentioned the fair, but now…God, you changed. You…you grew up."

"What? Are you implying that I wasn't grown up before?" Mike pushed John so that he was behind him as he walked off.

"You're still you. Just that you're more mature-"

"Save it."

John ran towards Mike's side and when he had gotten there, he stopped running and started walking alongside with him and no words came out of their mouths for a while as Mike stopped walking.

"Why are you here? Are you following me or something?"

"No," John stated, pushing his sunglasses to the roof of his nose as he stared directly into Mike's pure ocean blue eyes, "I just saw you walking and decided to join. Is that a problem?"

_Damn, he's good!_

Mike curled his tongue inside of his mouth, "yes, yes, it's a problem."

"Why?"

"You know why! Now, stop asking me all of these questions-"Mike stopped when he felt John's hand grab onto his own and they were both staring down at their now linked hands, Mike tore his hand away from John's grip. "You think that you can touch me like you did when we were together? I'm not your bitch anymore!"

"Who said you were-"

"Well, if it isn't Mizorrison," they heard an all too familiar voice chuckle.

_Oh no…God, why? Why do you hate me?_ Mike's eyes met with John Cena's similar baby blue eyes. Humor lapped into John Cena's eyes, a stretched smile crossing his features as he walked towards them, standing beside John Morrison and Mike Mizanin, his eyes switching from Morrison to Mike.

"Not funny," Mike said flatly.

"Who's in a bad mood? Who's in a bad mood?" Cena cooed to Mike as if he was just a baby which caused Mike to punch Cena in the stomach, causing him to step backwards, "ow, ow, ow!" he exclaimed in fake pain. "Seriously, my grandma hits harder than you."

Mike rolled his eyes. "At least I don't live on steak and ice cream."

"At least I don't sing in the shower."

"It was one time!" Mike exclaimed, staring angrily from Cena to Morrison, "and I still sounded better than you."

"Whoa, I'm intimidated."

Mike punched Cena again but instead of his stomach, this time, he hit him in the face, enough to break his face, but it didn't. Shockingly. Cena held his face and Morrison stared at him in confusion.

"Mike?"

"Don't. Underestimate. Me."

He left without another word. Maybe he did need a few moments in the fair. And he could hear Cena and Morrison talking with each other but he ignored them and as he stepped in front of the cheerful fair, he couldn't help but let a smile slide past his lips at all the memories that were here.

It didn't matter that those memories were all with John Morrison and hurt like hell since this year; it wasn't going to be like this…

At least he had a happy moment one time in a year.

He curled his tongue inside of his mouth.

_Yeah, Miz, you shouldn't let those two idiots ruin your fun. You can have so much fun all by yourself—_

…_yeah…_

Who the hell was he kidding?

He walked inside anyways, with thoughts of trying to get a well day but Mike had no idea what was in store with him for the rest of the day…

* * *

**Yes, I'm supposed to be working on a million other fics. Don't judge me. This one will be shorter than most of my stories. **

**Dedication to: **_**TheMizMagnet**_**. I love you, Aly! Go read her fics and be jealous! She's too awesome for words, seriously. **

**Okay, the plot will thicken throughout the chapters… don't worry. I don't do anything a cliché. This is just a beginning.**

**How is it until now, sweethearts? Reviews? Please?**

**X Sam.**


	2. Waltz

**I hope you enjoy this, sweethearts. Right now, Aly wants Mizena instead of Mizorrison but since she might make up her mind later…I'm putting both and both. This chapter is just more background information around Cena and Morrison's plan. I have it all planned. Hopefully, this fic won't be too long. You know how long my fics can be! XD.**

**And I don't own anything.**

**At all.**

**I only own Mike Mizanin…okay, I don't. Can't a girl dream? Lol.**

* * *

_Chapter Two_: John Cena and the Miz: _**Waltz**_

* * *

_**7:00 AM**__; talk_

* * *

Plan A. Plan B. Plan C.

All precisely planned by John Morrison.

Plan A was very specifically worked out, made of only two things, that right now, when he could've, John Cena would have to very, very cautiously get into Mike's radar or 'gaydar' as John Morrison had once said and then, he'd just break up with him, simple as that. Plan A, or Phase A, was completed.

Plan B was also planned out in the most specific, complicated manner that John could've and it consisted of having Mike run back to John Morrison, as quick as simple as that, just like John Morrison was running back to Mike all the time and then John Morrison would just step on Mike's heart just like John Morrison did.

Plan C was unplanned, under construction and he was pending for an idea for it…

John Cena nodded his head once at John Morrison's words, and rolled his eyes at the times he'd paused to flex his 'awesome abs' before he shook his hand with a quick "It's a deal" before he walked off to find Mike Mizanin.

After finding him wedged towards the candy section _oh what a shocker_, he ran towards the faux-hawked wrestler, with cuffs in his hands and a smirk that couldn't get out of his lips and his clothes were made of a cop's as he cuffed Mike's wrist and with way too many eyes on the silhouette of Mike, John dragged him off, "you have the right to remain silent-"

"Cena, what in hell's name-?"

John had dragged him behind a tree, chuckling. "You should've seen your face! Now, that's priceless!" His chuckles turned into full pledged laughter and Mike tries to recoil but his hand's still cuffed to Cena's wrist. "No wonder you do this! It's so much fun!" he doesn't stop laughing and it annoys Mike as he tries to recoil.

"Open the damn cuffs up, Cena!"

"Okay, okay," his laughter slowly subsides as he looks through his pockets for the tiny, silver key he 'misplaced'. "Seriously, you should've seen your face! It was like you'd seen a ghost!"

"Much worse, I saw Cena."

"Very funny," he pretends to be shocked as he scrambles through his pockets one more time, turning them inside out and looks at Mike, "I don't know where the damn key is."

"W-what?!" Mike exclaims, with wide eyes. "Oh great. God, this is not funny anymore! Stop it!"

From their distance, John dragged Mike behind him as he heard the faint music from where he stands, and as John goes into the source of the music, hip-hop music in which John Morrison stood there, winking at Cena, and a smile stretched against Cena's face as he strode with a protesting Mike.

"What in hell's name!? Cena, are you high or something!?"

John laughed as he rapped to the beat of the hip hop music and Mike just stared, just praying… _God, kill me. God, take me now! I don't deserve this torture… _he heard the sound of clapping which ensured that John was over. _THANK YOU! I love you, God!_

"Hey! Those two are a cute couple!"

"How about a dance? A slow dance?"

"With cuffs?"

"That would be kick ass awesome!"

"Aww, they don't want to be separated!"

Mike stared at the amount of people who was seeing them as a couple and a shiver went up and down his spine.

…_God, I hate you._

* * *

_**7:30 AM**__; waltz_

* * *

_Why? Why? WHY?!_

John Cena positioned himself as he held onto Mike's side and Mike stared at him, shaking his head. "Oh no, I am not gonna be the girl."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Give me one reason why you shouldn't be the girl, Mizanin."

"This 'girl' hit you in the face."

"Hey!"

Mike smirked, simple as that.

It was Cena's turn to smirk, "but you're so cute." He pinched Mike's cheek which caused him to blush into a pink color.

"You're gay, Cena."

"My ex-boyfriend isn't John Morrison though."

"You dated a guy before?"

"No."

That caused Mike to laugh out loud, "At least I have experience."

Cena started to move to the melodic music while Mike had trouble. He'd never danced anything. He was a terrible dancer, remembering those high school days and stepping on Cena's foot, he shuffled out his chuckles.

"Mizanin!"

"What? I can't dance!" another step on John's foot.

"Damn…by the time I'm done, I'm gonna have some seriously numb feet."

"Serves you right."

John accidentally stepped on Mike's foot.

"You did that on purpose, assclown!"

"Did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't, Mizanin bitch!"

"You're so civil."

John suddenly stopped which caused Mike to seriously stomp on his foot and that caused John to yelp in pain as he stepped back and fell to the floor, with Mike falling on top of him.

"Get a room!"

John laughed while Mike blushed. Humiliation seeped through.

"I am not together with him!"

"And I'm the President!"

A chorus of laughter filled their location as Mike stood up and the tiny silver key fell to the ground and Mike reached out for it to unlock the cuffs as he walked away from the chuckling audience.

Mike took Cena's shoulder and slammed him to a tree.

"I really can't feel my feet anymore!"

Mike didn't say another word as he stepped away but in a moment, John Cena was moving fast beside him.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?"

Mike's facial expression changed from cold to colder as he looked straight into John Cena's eyes. "Let's see…I woke up to this stupid alarm clock that I can't get rid of and stupid Morrison was stupidly calling me and he was wondering if I was going to the stupid fair and then you humiliate me in front of these stupid people and then you ask me what the hell is wrong with me!"

"…whoa," Cena blinked, digesting the information. "When you put it that way, it sounds all…stupid."

Mike grunted and walked away, huffing to himself and Cena just shook his head as he went back to Morrison's side. "What do you think is gonna happen next?" the 32 year old John asked, blinking as the image of Mike Mizanin flashed through his head once again, the coldness and bitterness that was on his face…that just wasn't right, was it? He shook his head once more.

"I honestly don't know…" John Morrison said, trying to come up with a solution for what to do to Mike for the rest of the day.

"Your turn to try and think of something clever! I'm gonna go get me a drink."

John Cena left, leaving John Morrison trying to plot on what John Cena should do next. After all…there were too many things to do, wasn't there? He bit down on his lower lip but when he heard John Cena open up his bottle of Mountain Dew, his thoughts were all on the Cena man as if he was the solution for all his problems.

"I can give you an idea," Cena grinned.

"And?"

Cena wiggled his eyebrows. "Only if you call me Sir Cena the Awesome because I am. I forgot to praise myself today."

"Damn, Mike turned bitter and you turned into Mike. Is there something wrong with this picture?"

"Hey! Just say it!"

John Morrison sighed. He'd do this. Just this one, right? He bit down his lower lip, breathing deeply before saying those words, "Sir Cena the Awesome, can you please tell me what your idiotic plan is?"

"Go over there and try to make him feel good then I'll make him feel bad and then you make him feel good. Let's fix Plan A that way." Cena winked. "Besides, I'm not gonna be with Mizanin for the entire day! That's just punishment for me!"

"That's—not a bad idea actually," Morrison responded.

His eyes locked onto a beige fountain in the middle of the fair and birds were all over it as a memory over washed Morrison's mind, he grinned devilishly at the thoughts of the lovable, soft words they said in that specific place.

"_Hey, Mike! Check this out!"_

"_Hmm…very nice."_

"_No more cotton candy!"_

"_HEY! Mine!"_

"_I'm gonna give you something much sweeter when we go home…"_

"_I'd rather have the cotton candy, John."_

"_Hey!"_

"…_I hate this fountain. It's so weird."_

"_It's nice."_

"_It's weird."_

"_It's nice."_

"_It's weird."_

"_It's nice."_

"_Say it's nice again and I'll practically poke you with this candy stick. John, are you blind?!"_

"_No…there are beautiful eyes looking back at me…"_

"_John…" _

"_Make a wish."_

He shook his head. Those days were way past him. Even though he wished they weren't. Those days made them the people they were today and now looking back at them, it just crushed Morrison.

He bit down at his lip. "I just may have something in mind, Cena…"

* * *

**Review, please??**

**X Sam.**


	3. Wishes

**Hopefully, the actual love/romance will start soon. ;)**

* * *

_Chapter Three_: John Morrison and The Miz: _**Wishes**_

* * *

_**8:00 AM**__; fountain wishes_

* * *

"I just need one thing from you, Cena…"

Cena's eyebrow rose.

"Morrison?"

A smirk stretched against Morrison's face.

"Oh no…"

* * *

"NO!"

Cena had never seen Mike so angry before and secretly, it was a turn on but he thought that if he banged Mike now, Mike would just scratch his skin out—plus, his face was awesome and no one would dare scratch his face out.

"Leave me alone, Cena!"

John Cena's hand was gripping onto Mike's wrist as he pulled him towards the fountain that John Morrison was clearly standing at, peering oh so clearly from his sunglasses and Cena tried to move a resistant Mike from his position.

"Come on, Mike!"

"No!" Mike huffed.

"Come on! I wanna show you something!"

"Let go!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Mike…"

Mike stared at him in a deadly manner, his lips pursed into a tight line, "Leave. Me. Alone. Now."

"Just let me show you this one thing…" Cena's eyes twinkled the baby blue color of his as both of their eyes locked with each other before Mike nodded his head in agreement and Cena's eyes lightened.

"No funny stuff, Cena. I don't want to spend my years in jail for killing you."

"YES!" Cena danced a happy dance and Mike flushed before John grabbed onto his arm and walked over towards the other side of the fountain and then fell down to the ground, pretending to be looking for anything.

_What? I'm looking for…a dinosaur? A—?_

"What the hell are you doing?" Mike asked, leaning down to search the ground for anything out of the ordinary.

"Ahhhh…my contact lenses?"

"You wear contact lenses, Cena?"

"Uhh….okay."

Cena 'accidentally' _really it was an accident, right?_ bumped his hip towards Mike's so that Mike would fall to the ground and John Morrison came rushing towards him, helping the little brunette up, pretending to be shocked as Cena dug through the dirt.

"You done yet?" Mike tried to ignore that his ex was holding him…_the same hold that he always did_…Mike frowned. _What happened to us?_

"Could be a while." Cena simply responded. "What? They're so tiny!"

Morrison helped a sad little Mike up to his feet as John Morrison guided him back towards the fountain itself and chuckled as he dipped his thin finger in the cold water and Mike twisted his head.

He can't look at this.

No.

"Come on, Mike, don't be sad."

"Easy for you to say, John," Mike snapped bitterly.

John held onto Mike's side and pushed the warm body close to his own, the warmth of the body suddenly gave way to a million thoughts as Morrison smirked and kissed the side of Mike's face. The movement had caused Mike to push him off.

"Come on…why are you so glum, Mike? I mean, this is your most favorite time of the year!" the 30 year old tried to excite him. "You remember? You used to go around, stealing candy from every booth you could, and then ride a million rides, all of them in fact, and the booth games, you love those…Mike?"

His thoughts had drifted away.

Mike's eyes watered but he held his pain away. He ran his hand through his faux-hawk and looked at John Morrison, trying to decide if he could run but then he realized that he was weak in the knees, unable to move from his frozen position.

"Mike?"

"John, it's-I-confused-"

He couldn't make up a sentence so he stopped talking, sighing deeply, he looked into the clear water that showed his reflection.

That was him…

Right?

He didn't know. He bit down his lip. How could he not know his own reflection? He had the same hair, the same eyes, the same face, the same lips, the same…everything…

John pushed Mike close to him once again but didn't try being any affectionate since Mike didn't want any of that and it showed all too clearly. Mike's eyes were looking at the twinkling colors that were still stirring in the water.

Was he a color?

No. Just all painted in black and white. The 'awesome' Miz was just a hallucination at the back of his head. There was…no one… in the water.

"Mike? Baby, are you alright?"

Mike sprinted off. He couldn't believe this day. The sky didn't change. The world around him didn't change. The lividness wasn't gone.

He changed.

And he hated it.

"_You remember? You used to go around, stealing candy from every booth you could, and then ride a million rides, all of them in fact, and the booth games, you love those…Mike?"_

No words came out of Mike's mouth.

Silence.

Two months ago, he couldn't even handle the silence but now, he was bathing into the core of it all. He was so different that it seemed like he was the opposite of who he was. He wasn't happy and cheerful and talkative Mike. He was sad and glum and silent Mike. He wasn't in the mood for anything…

When did this happen?

Why did this happen?

Mike bit down his lip.

He didn't care anymore.

He just had to find out how to turn back to how he was. He didn't want to be this new stranger. This new stranger was pushing everyone away and he didn't need or want that anymore.

What the hell was he going to do…?

"_John…" _

"_Make a wish."_

Wishes were useless now that the entire world was painted in black and blue.

* * *

_**8:30 AM**__; what's going on…?_

* * *

Mike saw the silhouette of John Cena and he sighed but he needed to do this. He had to push himself to be 'The Miz' again. That cheery annoying lovable 29 year old that everyone hated but loved all at once as he ran towards Cena with a fake, plastic smile on his face as his blue eyes twinkled due to the sunlight that hit at that angle.

"Cena?"

John looked at him. "No, I didn't find my contact lenses."

"Maybe I could look for it! You can barely see anything with them, much less without them," Mike dropped to the floor but John grabbed onto his arm, "what? Don't you want your lenses? Or do they hurt too much?" he made a puppy dog face.

John raised his eyebrow. "You're confusing. Just two hours ago, you were ready to kill us all if we came in your way but now…you're…you again."

"Who do you want me to be? McFly?"

"Yeah, definitely you."

John Cena leaned down next to him and pretend to look for his contact lenses and as Mike stood up, John looked up to see that plastic smile of Mike's widen. "Hey! There's cotton candy over there!"

"Oh no…"

After two minutes of trying to stand up, John ran alongside Mike and grabbed onto his wrist, wrenching him backwards, knocking his back towards the fountain and he rubbed his back. John Morrison, who still stood there, walked towards Mike with a confused look on his face, "what's going on?"

"Sorry, Mike!" Cena exclaimed, rushing over to him. "I didn't-um-"

"Just leave me alone," Mike snapped.

It was just no use. He didn't know how he could stay so patient with any of them anymore. He stepped away from them, and left them both confused and dazed.

Cena shook his head, trying to piece together what happened. "He pregnant or something…?"

* * *

**I don't know. I tried to balance out humor with angst. I didn't know if I can… I think it's okay overall.**

**X Sam.**


	4. Wonder

**Here isn't much action here. But it's more…triangle filled. I guess it's getting better…? I don't know. **

* * *

_Chapter Four:_ John Cena & The Miz: **Wonder**

* * *

**9:00 AM**_; fear? _

* * *

John Cena saw the confused figure of Michael Mizanin and he strode towards him, both of their bodies next to each other and before Mike could say anything, he froze in place. "Mike? You okay—?" then John's eyes darted towards the image of fear in Mike's eyes, a Dingo stretched out and away from everyone. "It's a dog, Mike! Are you scared of a dog?"

Mike was about to answer but John was walking towards the fluffy orange-white furred dog and Mike's heart was about to stop as he ran towards him, "John! Don't—"

"Calm down, Mike, it's just a dog," John laughed, leaning down to the dog and taking out his sandwich, stripping a piece of bacon from the sandwich and he was ready to feed the dog and John could hear Mike's footsteps—_why in hell's name is he afraid of a dog? A fucking dog of all_—just then, the dog sprang to life, suddenly jumping on top of John's body and biting at John's shoulder and Mike grabbed onto John's shoulders, dragging him away from the vicious dog.

Just as John stood up, Mike grabbed onto his wrist and helped him run away from the still angry and vicious dog and when they were out of his sight; Mike leaned against a tree, breathing in and out, his eyes staring at John's face, "It's a Dingo! Are you crazy or something!? You should never feed a Dingo!"

"I thought—"John shook his head. "I was pretty stupid, wasn't I?"

"Stupid?! A kid would know not to come near a fucking _Dingo_ of all things, Cena!" Mike exclaimed and he breathed in and out to steady himself before he ran his hand through his hair. "Let me see the cut."

John took off his shirt and Mike pressed him against a tree, inspecting the cut and he walked away and after twenty minutes later and he brought white bandages back, placing the roll on John's hand and he took out another bottle from the plastic bag, throwing it off and the acidic liquid stirring in the bottle and he dapped the disinfectant on his shoulder, feeling John slowly flinch but soon, he placed the white bandage on John's shoulders. John sucked in a breath and nodded his head, "There. All fine. You can go now, Mizanin—"

"No," Mike snapped. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

Mike shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I want to go, you know? This day's really been horrible for me and it's only nine o'clock! Dammit! I just—"

John put his finger on Mike's lips, shutting him up and before Mike could say anything else, Mike's eyes pooled towards John's and both of them stared at each other and no words came out of their mouths.

"I…yeah?—I should go now, don't you think, Mizanin?"

Mike nodded his head. "Go."

_No, don't go. I'm still empty._

Mike pushed those thoughts away and walked away but John grabbed his wrist and both of their eyes locked once more.

"Hey, how about some ice cream?"

Mike nodded his head in agreement. "O-okay."

* * *

**9:15 AM**_; skateboards and ice cream_

* * *

John Cena paid for two cones and walked towards Mike who was eyeing a bunch of love struck teenagers, skating around in skateboards, eating off their chocolate bars and candy canes and John grinned, taking Mike's hand and walking over to a booth where they sold skateboards. "Two, please."

Mike stared at him in shock.

"What in hell's name are you doing, Cena?"

"Don't you wanna skate?"

"I don't know how to skate!"

"I'll teach you. It's easy."

"No-"

"Wait…is your skateboarding skills as horrible as your dancing?"

"CENA!"

"Just asking…my feet are still numb, you know?"

He grabbed his skateboard and walked away, stopping before he grabbed onto Mike's wrist and taking him towards clear ground, placing the skateboard down as Mike licked his cone.

"Hey!"

"What?" John looked up at him and shook his head. "Do you not wanna skate here? Is there a problem—?"

"Yes, there's a problem! I wanted chocolate!"

John rolled his eyes and before John could say anything, Mike threw the strawberry cone in the trash and grabbed onto his skateboard, standing on top of it, "hey, this isn't so hard…"

Before John could say something, Mike pulled his other foot on and at that moment, he was tripping and fell to the floor, causing John to laugh.

"So impatient, aren't you, Mike?"

"Hey! Am not impatient! I'm patient…"

"Yeah, and I'm gonna profess my love for you."

"What love?" Mike stuck his tongue out. "And besides, I can do way better than you!"

"You can do better than John Cena? There is no better than me!" John exclaimed and that caused Mike to try and stifle out his giggles as he stood up and he placed one foot on the board, trying to follow John at his smooth motion and pace. He didn't find it too difficult when his foot was on the board and his other was strolling him down.

"Oh trust me, Cena, there is so much better than you."

"Like…?"

A blush crept onto Mike's cheeks.

John stared at him in confusion, trying to understand the reason for Mike's sudden bright blush but he didn't say anything, "Mike…? _Oh_. Morrison?"

Mike didn't say another word and John knew that his theory was confirmed. Mike did like John Morrison and he didn't want to say it because of the Draft, it would've given them too many problems and John could see that Mike had a hint of affection in his voice, something towards Morrison…but this was all too confusing…why wasn't he with Morrison then? John's brain was getting destroyed by all this thinking and the only thing that brought him towards reality was when Mike fell down.

"Oh, Mike…"

"Not a word. Just help me up."

From a distance, John Morrison stared at them, hearing every word and licked his lips. Until now, Plan A was going very smoothly but he didn't know how smooth it will remain. It was still just the beginning of their plot and it couldn't be destroyed too quickly, could it? John told him that he needed to go to the bathroom and John Cena walked towards John Morrison, both of them staring as the brunette went to go get a drink. "Cena, I need you to make him fall in love with you. You're pretty friendly out there but not in the way that Mike would want."

"I'm not interested in Mike and you know it…"

"I just need you to pretend that you're interested in Mike. Remember the plan?"

"Yeah, yeah, sheesh, don't get your panties in a bunch," John replied, shaking his head and sighing before he stared back at Mike. "I feel like we're a bunch of teenage bitches or something…we should've stared in Mean Girls or something."

* * *

**9:30 AM**_; realization and pain and—lust?_

* * *

John Cena walked back towards Mike Mizanin who now was sitting down onto his board and looked up at John with a weak smile and John sat down on his own skateboard. "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

Mike didn't say anything and that caused John to brush his hand against Mike's cheeks _kinda soft_ and before Mike could say anything, John spoke. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to tell me."

Mike sighed. "It's just that… I dunno…I just changed."

"I know."

"I don't like it. I wanna be me but I don't remember…it's weird. I don't know who I am anymore. It's like there's something underneath me…someone even I don't know of…and I don't know…I'm always changing. I don't know who I am."

"Oh," John never expected it to be this deep. He never expected Mike, of all people, to feel this way before.

"Oh?"

"You know I never guessed you'd say anything like that. You used to be so happy…"

"I was never happy."

Happiness barely lived in Mike's life. He didn't even know how it felt like anymore. There was excitement and there was the fact that he was hyper but it was never the same as happiness. This day was supposed to be his dose of happiness and joy but no…nothing. The only day he truly was happy was becoming the worst day of his life.

"Don't say that, Mike."

"What? What happened to me, John? What happened to the fact that I was hyper and excited before instead of this bitter person I've become? I don't know what happened after the Draft! I just turned this way…I turned too serious…"

"Mike…"

Mike stood up and was ready to go away but he tripped over his board and John caught him, both of their eyes locking with each other.

John chuckled, "so out of a movie."

Mike nodded his head. "You caught me."

_Yes, I did._

John shook the thoughts. He did not enjoy this. This was Mike Mizanin, John's going soon to be boyfriend once again but the way that Mike felt in his arms…it was almost giving him an erection, looking at those pouty pink lips, so lush and perfect…_damn_…

He shook his head and twirled Mike so that he stood up.

"See you, Cena…"

"Yeah."

_What the hell was that?_

* * *

**9:45 AM**_; Cena & Morrison talk _

* * *

John Morrison was not angry.

No. He was not angry.

He was _furious_. He was mad with fiery. He was so angry that angry would be an understatement to the blood that was stirring in his body so violently. Hot blood. Rushing to fast to all of his organs.

"What in hell's name was that, Cena?"

"You told me to make him fall for me!" John snapped, trying to remind him of that but John Morrison didn't say anything.

"I did, didn't I…?"

"I didn't tell you to fall for him, Cena!"

"Am not falling for him!"

Morrison breathed in. "Fine…"

Cena had the same face he had, hard and rigid. "So, now that that's all cleared up…how do I get Mike to fall for me? Since you know too much about him already…"

Morrison smirked. "Oh, I know a way…"

* * *

**There you go! **

**Review??**

**X Sam.**


	5. Worry

**Thank God, Aly finally made up her mind. So it's gonna end up Mizena. Great. 'Cause I don't know how to make it end up as Mizorrison this way. Lots of Mizena fluff in this chapter.**

* * *

_Chapter Five_: John Morrison & The Miz: **Worry**

* * *

**10:00 AM**_; a simple romantic gesture?_

* * *

_There's my boy._

After hearing of Morrison's plans for the tenth time, Cena walked towards where Mike was and saw that he was sitting down, eating popcorn, piece by piece and John Cena ran towards Mike's silhouette and he sat down beside Mike, both of their eyes locking as Mike grinned. "Cena? You've been following me around all day?"

"I got nothing to do but to annoy you."

Mike's grin widened. "That's supposed to be my line."

"That grin is so cute."

"Are you hitting on me, Cena?"

"No."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"We're acting like children." Mike stared back down onto his popcorn and ate another piece and Cena reached for a piece but Mike pulled the paper bag away. "No way!"

"Mizanin, sharing is caring!"

"I don't care! Get your own!"

"I don't wanna!"

"Stop stealing. That's not caring!" Mike took another bite, slowly, causing John to twitch as he reaches out and managed to grab a handful of popcorn. "Stealer! I should take you to jail to be punished!"

"Ooh, _punishment_," John almost winked.

Did he—?

Mike smirked. "Oh, Cena, when did you turn into the world's biggest flirt?"

John shrugged and kept a playful smile tugging at his lips and Mike looked behind his shoulder to see the many laughing children around him. It seemed like the day would never end and that…that was okay right now.

_Step one: don't be afraid to get slightly touchy. Then again, don't touch too much._

John brushed his hand against Mike's cheek and that pulled him in trance. Shocked, Mike stared into John's face and a blush crept on Mike's cheeks as he twisted his head away. "Damn, that is the cutest blush ever."

"You don't mean that!"

"Yes, I do."

"You don't!"

"Yes, I do."

Mike stood up and placed the thick paper bag between John's hands and giggled. "Now, you don't have to follow me around."

"Just wait until lunch."

Mike's giggles turned louder. "John!"

"Aren't you happy?"

Mike's smile faded and he was ready to walk away but John grabbed onto his wrist, causing Mike to look into John's twinkling blue eyes and Mike's heart was doubling over. "John…?"

"Don't." John cut him off. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the day."

"Is that like—a date offer or something?"

John shrugged and didn't say another word while Mike smiled softly but he didn't know how to date anymore. He didn't want this. He just wanted to go home right now but he didn't have anything to do home besides grieve his own tragedy and downfall in this world.

"Come on, Mike, I'm buying you popcorn."

"No, I want ice cream!"

"Didn't you just have ice cream?"

"I want chocolate!"

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll buy you some chocolate ice cream. But with your money."

"Catch me first!"

John's eyes went towards Mike's face; the once sad face was replaced by a face pink from the happiness that resided in his body right now and John almost felt this poking form of joy in his heart. He was just glad that Mike was happy but realizing that he'd have to break his heart, that was hard. He bit down his lip as he watched Mike run off.

John ran after him, pushing past people to grab onto the collar of Mike's shirt and that caused Mike to laugh as John surfed through Mike's pants, causing Mike to push him off. "My wallet!"

"There's nothing in it," John looked at it before taking out a paper dollar and pushed it back in Mike's pants, 'I feel sorry for you, Mike. You barely have money! Who ate it all up? Morrison? He's as thin as paper you know."

"Morrison, oh damn, I remember when he orders ice cream, 'how much fat is in there?' and when the guy responds 'I don't know', all that John keeps talking about is obesity and the horror of it all!"

John chuckled underneath his breath, "sounds fun! I'm gonna be worse!"

"John!"

Mike watched as John ran towards the booth and asked for two cones of chocolate ice cream and Mike walked towards him, trying to see what John was plotting and by the time that the man had given them bone cones, John stared at it. "Is there milk in this?"

Mike let out a stifled chuckle as he smacked the back of John's neck. "What in hell's name are you doing…?"

John shrugged. "I don't like milk."

"Milk is good for you," the man at the booth told him, as if he was a small child, "It helps strengthen your bones."

"I don't need to strength my bones… 'cause I'm John Cena and I'm AWESOME!"

That caused the man to cover his ears as John grabbed onto Mike's wrist and ran off, causing both of them to laugh as both of their eyes locked together once more and Mike's smile was still there when he started 'screaming' at Cena. "My line! Stealer! You steal everything, don't you?"

_Not true. I'm gonna steal more than just that._

John pushed that cliché line away from his head. "Doesn't matter! I love your line. And I'm willing to fight to you for it."

Mike caught John's playful tone and nodded his head. "Fine. You want some, come get some…"

"Look who's line stealing now!"

John ran after Mike who was running away now and they stopped when Mike was out of breath, licking onto his cone, and nodding his head. "Now, this is chocolate. Not that strawberry trash you seem to like more."

"I eat my fruits."

"No, you don't. You eat your steaks but not your fruits." Mike continued to lick his cone and in moments, he had devoured the cone while John was only halfway through and even though John loved that smile that was on Mike's face, he knew that it was time for him to say those words.

"Mike…we need to talk."

* * *

**10:30 AM**_; fight_

* * *

_Stupid Cena. Stupid._

This was completely out of Plan A and B and C. He just wanted to say this. He really did care about Mike and he really didn't want to see Mike like this and now, sitting down on a bench and watching Mike stare into the floor with that sweet smile that seemed to rest on his face for the last half an hour, he sucked in a breath.

"Mike…we really need to talk…"

"Then talk." Mike said, his playful tone turning dead serious as those eyes went to John's face. "Tell me."

"I…I'm suggesting this for your own good but I want you to do some—just a little bit—of therapy."

The thought of doing therapy caused Mike to jump up and stare into John's eyes, horrified at the thoughts that were racing in his head as John stood up and grabbed onto his shoulder. "Listen, Mike, I'm only doing this for your own good. You seem very confused about who you are. I just—"

"I don't wanna do therapy!" Mike cried out, his eyes widened as his blood stirred with pain and agony. How could Cena do this to him? Why couldn't he have a moment of happiness? Just for one moment, one day…was that too hard to ask for? It was going smoothly and just then, he came up with the idea of therapy?! Mike's stomach churned as he looked deep into John's concerned blue eyes.

"Mike-"

"I said I don't wanna do therapy! It means that I don't want to!" Mike exclaimed, his eyes still blazing with fiery and his body was igniting a black fire that seemed to rage inside of him all too suddenly. "Why do you think I'm crazy? I'm just fine!"

"I'm just worried about you, Mike! When you told me about how you felt—I knew that I couldn't do anything to help you but a professional—"

"But therapy? It sounds like I have some sort of disease!"

Silence passed by both as Mike breathed short and sharp breaths to calm down his fire and soon, his red with fiery body turned pale once more and his eyes looked back at John and John could see that clearly instead of fiery, there was pain, so much agony in those eyes and how he tried to hide the fact that he was hurt. There was something behind that mask of his that he was hiding and John didn't want to know. He was too scared to know but at the same time, he wanted to.

"…look-" John started but was cut off by Mike.

"Just go away."

"Mike, I-"

"Didn't you hear me, Cena? Go away! I don't need you!" Mike's body was shaking as he walked off and John stood there, looking at Mike's body and the guilt stirred into John's blood. He bit down his lower lips and walked off, trying to forget but the images were vividly replaying in his head, over and over.

* * *

**So like me to turn it all fluffy and gushy and just then—all angst. ;) But admit it, you love me anyways. XD. Review??**

**X Sam.**


	6. Whimsy

**Well…um…enjoy?**

* * *

_Chapter Six_: John Cena & The Miz: **Whimsy**

* * *

**11:00**_; leaving_

* * *

John Cena didn't hate fairs in general.

He just hated the games.

And the rides.

And the air.

And being outside when he could be inside of his sheets, watching reruns of the game.

And right now, as he was about to leave, his eyes caught a certain silhouette standing there with his backpack on his shoulder and his eyes just wandering and a smile formed on John's face as he walked towards the wondering Mike. "Hmm, Michael."

"Since when was I Michael?"

"That's your name, right?"

"No one calls me Michael."

"Is that a threat?"

"I don't know. Does it sound like one? Brain cells thinning or something?" John chuckled while Mike's eyes glowed dangerously. "Still, don't try to lighten the mood. I'm still angry about that therapy thing…where you heading off to?"

"…out. It's not that I don't like the fair. I just don't like the games and the rides and just being here. I'll go watch my tape of last night's game." John tried to explain and that caused Mike to try and shuffle out his giggles while John rolled his eyes all too typically. "What?"

"It's just that, you know," Mike tried to explain it, "you hate fairs and you seem like the type of guy that does."

"You do too."

"I like fairs."

"What are you doing out here then?"

Mike looked around, his eyes scanning the world around him and he simply shrugged. "I dunno…I guess I like the weather out here and I don't know. Wanted to get away from you but you seem to be stuck on me."

"That's me!"

Mike rolled his eyes. "Assclown."

"Yup. Definitely me." John grinned. "What me to give you a ride home? I mean, since you're outside, I might as well as…since you like the fair as much as I do…"

"Yeah, sure."

It didn't take much long for both of them to be in John's car and as John tried to observe the road and Mike as well, which was proven to be difficult to the chain gang solider, he was glad when a stop light approached them, bringing the car to a halt and then Mike started to speak. "Stop staring at me."

"Can't help it."

"Is that a compliment or—?"

"Ooh, so the Demon of Desire doesn't know a compliment from an insult."

"Do too!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Uh huh!"

"Then tell me."

"It's a compliment."

"Congratulations, I should award you for that." John smirked, looking out into the open as he started up his car again and as John looked down at his watch, the hotel wasn't too far off.

"Why?"

That caused John to jeer out of his thoughts. "Why what, Mizanin?"

"I mean—why are you so obsessive with me today? I mean, you were stuck onto me, you know that…but—why?"

By then, they had reached the hotel and Mike didn't move and John just wanted to blow his brains out because of all things, he didn't want to answer this question. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, trying to come up with an explanation.

"I like you, Mizanin. You're not a bad kid."

"Yeah?" a smirk settled on Mike's face and that jeered John out of his thoughts as Mike leaned down and pressed his lips towards him and before John could stop, Mike pushed his tongue inside of John's mouth and John found himself wrapping his arms around Mike's waist, both of their bodies pressing against each other, the stickiness of their flesh, the beating of their hearts.

_Idiot, Cena! What the hell are you doing?_

Before John could attempt to realize the situation, he pressed his lips back to Mike's, the Ohio native kissing back, both bodies attached as John pulled Mike away, both of them gasping for breath.

"Damn, Mizanin…"

Mike smirked and stared at him, "so…?"

"So what? That was one kiss." John pushed Mike off of him and Mike giggled, biting down at his bottom lip.

_Morrison is going to murder you and send your remains to China. What in hell's name were you thinking?!_

"You are one…different person."

"I prefer the term 'unique'."

"Conceited bitch."

That caused Mike's smile to drop. "Conceited bitch? Is that what I am?"

"No, I mean—"

Mike's smile formed once more as he laughed, causing John to shake his head and pull Mike close towards him.

"I'm taking you back to the fair."

"…that so? I was thinking of other things…"

"You are always thinking of other things, Mizanin," John shook his head, running his arm down Mike's side. "How about I take you to therapy first and then the fair? As long as we're on the road? What do you say?"

Mike stared up at him, a pout crossing his face.

"Oh no, Mizanin! Don't even think you can pull that face off with me around!"

"Damn!"

John chuckled, pushing Mike away as he started up the car again and rode off to his destination and John couldn't help but think how Morrison was going to react when he realized that they kissed…and what about those kisses? Were they heat of the moment or did they mean something?

John licked his lips.

_One thing…you know you liked it._

And that was why he wanted to blow his brains out.

* * *

**10:30;** _therapy_

* * *

"Okay…Mike…let's try some free association."

"Free assassination?"

"No…free association."

Mike sighed and he looked back at his watch and he noted that he was here only five minutes ago and around he hated this more than anything but he didn't know why he couldn't say 'no' to John anymore and he pushed those feelings away as he stretched on the couch of his and he wondered if this was supposed to be relaxing. _This piece of cardboard is supposed to be relaxing?_

"I'm going to say a few words and you tell me the first thing that pops in your head."

"Happiness."

"_Pursuit of Happyness."_

"Hate?"

"Morrison."

"Love?"

"Doesn't exist."

"Pain?"

"Exists."

"Horror?"

"_Final Destination."_

"Animals?"

"Endangered."

He jolted down Mike's thoughts and curled his mouth slightly as Mike shook his head. _This is pointless…_ "Family?"

"Broken."

"College?"

"Hard."

"Life?"

"Unfair."

He nodded his head. "I see…"

"Am I done yet?" _this is so pointless…_

Mike didn't know why John was paying for this session and he didn't feel any different and why should he tell his life to a stranger that pretend to be interested and pretend to sympathize with him?

"What are your dreams, Mike?"

"…I dream of a non-cliché world," Mike rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm serious. Tell me."

"Dreams are pointless."

_This is pointless…I'm gonna explode…_

"Why do you feel that way?"

"Why dream? Dream and you crush down if it doesn't happen. I think it's stupid," Mike said, rolling to his side, trying to distract himself with anything, the fabric of the couch, the colors, just anything. He hated this more than he hated the world around him and he realized how dull his thoughts were but pushed it away. It was just because it was therapy. It was pointless. Or was he thinking this way all the time? "What's the point of it all?"

"Dreams are there to satisfy you. Give you goals. Set your standards."

"And if you don't reach it, you get crushed."

"You're very pessimistic."

"Yeah, yeah, Cena's paying too much to know something I've known for too long…can I go now?" the therapist simply nodded his head as Mike stood up and walked outside of the room and when he'd seen John, a weak smile spread across his lips. "I told you therapy was stupid."

"I guess so. But did you—I don't know—figure out why you're like this?"

"Like _what_? I know who I am." _Likely story._

"I guess so."

"Give me an actual answer, John."

John sighed. "Nothing. Let's just go to the fair."

John moved past Mike, leaving Mike confused and trying to understand what was going on and why everyone was like this to him and after a while of standing there with his mouth partly open, he finally closed it and walked off, strolling down behind John and after they were in the car and headed to the fair, Mike pressed his head towards the foggy window, looking outside, trying to understand what John had meant.

…_who am I…?_

* * *

**Review??**

**X Sam. **


	7. Waste&Wasteland

**WARNING! This chapter contains too much FLUFF. XD. **

**What? Just knowing that I had written a chapter of just fluff made me accomplished. I guess I might be just slightly perkier than usual. Anyways, I hope that you like this…even if just a little part of this. IT TOOK HARD WORK. I mean, I don't write fluff much so this was a new step for me! ONLY FOR ALY! :) *Huggles Aly* I WUFFLES YOU, CHIKA! MY MIZ COMPANION!**

* * *

_Chapter Seven_: John Cena & The Miz: **Waste/Wasteland**

* * *

**12:00**_; Morrison & Miz's talk about Cena_

* * *

**b-baby, i'm burning in your wasteland.**

* * *

"What do you see in him?"

He knew the moment that John Morrison has said those words, that this was not going to be a delightful conversation at all as he twisted his head towards John Morrison and Mike rolled his tongue in his mouth, tasting the bitter taste of saliva mixed in with the mixture of ice cream and corn chips he'd eaten earlier.

"Hmm, Morrison?"

"What in hell's name do you see in John Cena? Does he look better than me? Does he have some sort of spell on you?"

Mike chuckled. "Spell? What is he like—Harry Potter?"

"He's Harry Potter?! Why didn't you tell us?" John Morrison joked, causing Mike to slap him on the back and for a moment, the dense atmosphere lightened and both of them stared at each other as John Morrison leaned down and that caused Mike to push him away. "So you're really serious about Cena?"

"No."

"Then why can't I kiss you?"

"Cause I don't want your fish lips on me, Morrison." Coldness to the tone of his voice and John Morrison knew that it was intended.

"Fish lips?"

Mike nodded his head, a tight line pressing, lip against lip, crushed.

"You don't mean that!" John Morrison pulled his lower lip forward and with those 'innocent' brown eyes, he spoke. "Did you kiss him…?"

"Me?"

"No, I'm asking the invisible guy right behind you!"

"Oh, okay, you and him have a nice talk."

"Mizanin!"

"Fine. Fine." Mike huffed, staring at him, trying to comprehend why John Morrison was so obsessed with him—_isn't it obvious, Mizanin? He wants you back!_ Mike shook his head, smiling softly.

"Did you kiss him?"

Seriousness.

The atmosphere just got thicker.

Mike nodded his head. "Yeah, I did." Morrison's eyes widened but Mike continued to speak with frustration and annoyance bubbling in every particle of his sticky, hot blood. "Why should you care, Morrison? You don't fucking own me!"

"Why? Just tell me why!"

Mike looked down as a hiccup escaped his throat. "Because he cares and you don't. What you have for me; it's only because I'm mysterious. If I wasn't such a mystery, you'd be bored with me and you'd walk away. It's like finding out something new, you'd do anything to know more about it—but I'm not a fucking book. Just go away!"

"You think Cena actually cares?" John's eyes darkened, walking towards Mike, causing Mike to walk back and he tripped down onto the floor but even then, Mike nodded his head, a smile crossed on his pale white face. "You can't bring me down, Morrison. I know that he cares."

"Because he told you to go to therapy?"

"How did you—"

"Think about it, Mizanin. Would the Cena you've fought with and laughed at and insulted suddenly care about you? Ha! You must be an idiot," John Morrison snapped and Mike Mizanin stared at him before he slowly nodded his head.

"T-that makes sense."

"He just wants to change you and then break your heart. You know that I care about you."

John Morrison walked towards him, pressing him towards him, their bodies pressing against each other and both of their mouths met as John shoved his tongue inside of Mike's mouth and John pulled away, ruffling pieces of Mike's hair away from his forehead and his soft, cold breaths were on Mike's face.

"I care, Mike."

"I-I'm confused."

"We all are."

Mike pushed John Morrison away, walking away and John grabbed onto Mike's wrist but Mike tried to struggle away.

"Mike…?"

"Leave me alone!"

Mike punched John in the stomach and he was so weak in the knees as he tried to escape away from John's sight as Mike sprinted off towards a tree and he was out of breath and he fell down towards the tree and his legs are aching him as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Mike?"

"Cena?"

Mike's eyes went towards John Cena's face where the pale faced boy had leaned down towards him and held him close.

"John, I'm so confused."

"What did he say?" there was a hint of anger stirring in his voice.

"Nothing."

"What did he do?" the anger strengthened into something more.

"He kissed me."

"He did _what_? Did you like it? Did he force you into it? What? Mike, tell me." So much frustration and his words were so fast; Mike could barely grasp the words that were coming out of his mouth.

"I'm so confused." Mike repeated, unable to say anything else.

John ran his hand down Mike's back, kissing Mike's earlobe as he stopped up and helped Mike up as well. "We're gonna have a talk with John Morrison."

"You're not gonna hurt him, are you, John?" Mike's eyes widened at the thought.

"…just a bit."

"John!"

"Fine. I won't punch the daylights out of him."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm still angry. I wanna punch him." He whined like a child before Mike shook his head and John sighed one more time before taking Mike's hand and walking towards John Morrison and all Mike knew that he just wanted this all to end. This day was so fucking long. He can't handle it.

Morrison stared at Cena and Mike.

"What?" Morrison said, raising his eyebrow and walked towards Cena, staring at him straight in the eyes with coldness and iciness. "What?" he repeated, snapping at Cena horribly.

"Did you kiss my boy?"

Mike felt a shivered went down his spine. _My boy?_ He shook his head and watched as both of them stared, too cold, words barely needed to come out of their mouths and Mike looked like he was about to punch both of them soon enough. He just didn't like them calling him 'my boy'. It made him feel like a possession.

Was he a possession…?

It was better than being nothing right?

A sense of belonging.

"Your boy?" Morrison repeated. "He's mine. He's been mine first. He's kissed me and I've kissed him, he's loved me and I've loved him… he's mine!"

"Hear yourself, 'Cena's voice was thick with certainty. "Kissed. Loved. It's all the past. He's mine now. He's kissing me now. He's loving me now. He's mine. Face it, Morrison, he's my boy…"

They grabbed onto Mike's arm and tugged him towards one another.

"STOP IT!"

Mike was breathing in and out, staring at both of them. "If you're both gonna be kids about it, then I don't want either of you!"

Morrison and Cena stared at each other, coldly and Cena held his hand onto Mike's shoulder, a horrible British accent to the tone of his voice, "Fine. Mr. Mike, let's elegantly and very politely leave young Mr. Morrison here with his thoughts."

Mike giggled and nodded his head, imitating Cena's British accent, with all its horribleness and terribleness. "Of course, Mr. Cena. We wouldn't want to disturb Mr. Morrison for he's in a need of guidance."

"Yes, we wouldn't want to disturb the assclown in his search for—um—"

"Wisdom. For there is no real wisdom in the Palace of Wisdom."

Both of them walked off, giggling and chuckling to themselves and when they were sure that they were out of John Morrison's sight, Mike started to speak, "Did you see his face? 'We wouldn't want to disturb the assclown', you use too much vulgar language, Mr. Cena!"

"Mr. Mizanin," Cena smiled weakly. "And 'there is no real wisdom in the Palace of Wisdom'? Did you see how his eyes widened? You shouldn't insult something so precious to him, you know!"

Mike pouted.

"Stop it!"

Mike's pout turned into a grin.

"There. A nice smile. That's what I want."

"You are such a romantic tease."

"But you like that about me, don't you, baby?"

"Baby? So now, I'm your 'baby'?" that caused Mike to remember how John had called him his and that made the smile drop as he shook his head. "What did you mean when you said that I'm yours?"

Cena blushed. "Well…um…"

"Cena, you're as red as a cherry."

A grin spread across his features. "I know. Look, let's just discuss it later on, I don't wanna talk about it now."

"But you are talking about it."

"Yeah, yeah, I am. Don't worry."

Mike stared at him, and reluctantly said his words. "Fine but I'm not liking this one bit."

* * *

**d-d-don't turn me into a waste of space.**

**i wanna be something real.**

* * *

**12:30; **_kisses & hugs & teddy bears_

* * *

Another knock.

He sent the tiny red ball flying towards the white bottles and he grinned as he grabbed the last ball and threw it but it massed the last few white bottles and he sighed as he looked over at Mike.

"Well, I suck at these games."

"I figured that out when you played this game for the…twenty-ninth time."

"You counted that high?"

Mike nodded his head. "I wanna try now! You had me waiting! Evil Cena!"

"I wouldn't let you waste a buck on this thing…"

Mike shook his head and sighed, pulling out a creased dollar and placing it, "three balls, please."

"I swear this is the hardest game I've ever had to compete in. Besides, it's impossible! I mean, I come here every year!"

"Morrison used to do it for me."

A grunt.

"Someone jealous?"

"Am not!"

"You so are."

"Am not!"

"Yeah, sure you aren't."

"I swear, if I, John Cena, can't win that game then no one can!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done." Mike held up a white fluffy teddy bear and grinned at him and John shook his head. "You were saying…?"

"Nothing."

Mike rolled his eyes as he looked at the fluffy teddy bear and chuckled under his breath, hugging the teddy close to him. "You are so jealous of that bear right now."

"Am not."

"Yes, you are."

"So…you gonna give him to me?"

"It's a girl! Didn't you see the cute pink bow? And no! If you can't get her gender properly, then you can't have her!"

"He's a transvestite."

"She's not a transvestite."

John rolled his eyes and he leaned down to capture Mike's lips into a quick, chaste kiss and he tried to reach for the white teddy bear but Mike pushed it behind him. He shook his head. "You're not having her."

"It's a boy!"

"A boy with a pink bow?!"

"Leave him alone! He has dreams!"

"You want a boy!"

"That obvious? I don't want a girl!"

"So you're gonna be like those people, Cena? Those that bury girls alive when she's born?! EVIL CENA!"

"…so you gonna leave me for it?"

"Maybe I will!" Mike joked and soon, both of them burst out in laughter and John was about to descend but he looked back at Mike and kissed him, a slow and passionate kiss and pulled back only to grin a devious grin.

"What do you have in mind, Cena?"

"…cars, sports, I want spaghetti for dinner…"

Mike rolled his eyes. "I hate you."

* * *

**YEAH, ALL FLUFF. Just this tiny mention of angst at that **_**'what does he mean when he says I belong to him'**_** part. & hope you wickie, Aly! Remember, I don't write fluff for anyone else.  
**

**Review or I'll chop your head off. XD. **

**X Sam.**


	8. Whiskey & Rum

**Since the last chapter was all fluff, this will be a lot of angst. I re-read that over and over again, I still can't believe I did that. Also, sorry it took so long. I can barely work on Mizfics when my sister's around. SHE HATES ME WRITING SLASH ABOUT MIKE. XP.**

* * *

_Chapter Eight_: John Morrison & the Miz: **Whiskey & Rum**

* * *

**1:00**_; broken heart_

* * *

John Morrison stared at his little faux-hawked prize.

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

Just as John Cena walked away from John Morrison, Morrison gave a quick smirk and looked at Melina, who was like a sister to him and soon Melina walked towards Cena.

"You know the plan."

Morrison walked towards Mike, who was playing with the white still unnamed teddy bear's pink bow and at the sight of Morrison; Mike completely held the teddy bear in front of his eyes.

"Mike!"

Mike sat down next to Morrison and smiled as he put a hand onto Mike's shoulder and this caused Mike to shake his head. "Don't touch me." He simply said. He pushed Morrison away with the teddy bear but Morrison continued to shake his head.

"Mike, Mike, Mike…"

"What?"

"Mike, Mike, Mike…"

"What? Just tell me what!" Mike exclaimed, annoyed by Morrison's constant repetition of his name. _I know my name. You don't have to repeat it a million times. _

"…ugh, something."

"Something? That's what you wanted to tell me?"

John Morrison nodded his head and grabbed onto Mike's wrist, dragging him along with him and Mike sighed. This _is why I hate fairs now. All because of him…who can blame me? _Mike bit down onto his lower lip as John dragged him towards where Melina and John were talking to each other and at that exact moment, Melina grabbed onto John's collar and kissed him and that wasn't the only thing that annoyed Mike, it was the fact that John had kissed back, and Mike could see the certain lust in his eyes.

Nothing could deny that.

Mike balled his hands into fists to hide the hurt inside and John Morrison wrapped his arms around Mike's body, kissing his cheek.

"Why am I so fucked up, John…?"

"Shh…he's just a player. I don't want him around you anymore, Mike. I care about you." A smirk was on John Morrison's face and he was glad that Mike couldn't see it as he led Mike away, that arm still wrapped around Mike's shoulder. "Come on…let's get you some candy, baby."

He laid Mike down onto the bench and kissed his forehead, walking off to get him something to eat.

'_What the hell is wrong with me…? What can't I have one relationship and get it over with…?'_

"Mike?"

John stood there with a candy cane and he had given Mike the piece of sugary candy. "Mike…?"

"I don't want it."

He didn't feel like candy.

His heart was too broken.

"It's good for what's ailing you."

Mike licked the candy. Too sweet but he kept on licking, trying to distract himself as John sat down beside him and held onto his shoulder, pressing Mike towards John's body.

Tears fell from Mike's eyes.

Leaking.

Pain exploding in his heart.

"I want to go home…take me home-"

"You like fairs, baby. Don't you wanna stay?"

"Will you make me happy? Will you make me happy, Johnny?"

John pressed his lips towards Mike's and he stood up, his hands onto Mike's bloated face and those icy blue eyes were glued to his hard brown eyes.

"Are we together, John?"

John nodded his head. "I love you…"

* * *

**1:30**_; okay now?_

* * *

John had taken Mike towards the many booths for lunch.

Mike and John Morrison were sitting down at a table, Mike playing with his food more than eating and he didn't take more than a bite in the last ten minutes and that made John concerned about the brunette.

John took a wipe off the white sauce of his pasta and placed it onto Mike's nose.

Mike seemed to take it as a sign to lighten his mood as he had taken a piece of pasta and put it close to John's mouth and he opened his mouth to eat it but Mike smeared it across his cheek.

"Hey! Evil!"

John stood up and tackled Mike to the floor, both of their tongues twisted into each other and Mike pulled off.

"Hey…I see your boxer briefs." John smirked.

"Do you like it?"

"What is that on the waistband?"

"A star." Mike blushed.

"Does that mean we can have a wish?"

"I don't know…

"I wish for you to smile."

"That's pretty much impossible right now."

"What do you wish for?"

"I wish things are gonna be okay. I wish that we're gonna be okay…"

John stared into those eyes, burned with pain… "I can't believe he did that to me! He knew I cared about him! But he still pushed that knife of pain into my heart until my heart exploded into pieces! DAMMIT!"

"Mike…"

"I hate him. I hate him so damn much it hurts."

_I love him. I love him so damn much it hurts._

"Maybe we're not gonna be alright, John…maybe-"

"Love, give us a change…give me a chance…please."

Mike stared back at John's eyes, that innocence that was condensing into John Morrison's eyes was enough to make Mike drop dead and Mike slowly nodded his head. "Just promise me it'll all be okay…"

"It'll all be okay, Mike. I promise."

A soft smile spread across Mike's face. Even if it wasn't real. He just wanted to know that there was hope. A streak of hope.

"There? Was that so hard? To smile?"

"Just wait one minute…"

John watched Mike walk off; sprinting and he just hoped as he shut his eyes tight and thought, letting his thoughts explode in his head and after standing there for too many minutes that passed, he searched for Mike and he did find him very quickly, sprayed onto the ground with a bottle of whisky in his hands and he was drowning his sorrow in that bottle too fast and too badly.

"Mike. This won't make you feel any better."

"I wanna be okay!"

"Mike! This is not the way! Give me the bottle!"

Mike shook his head and continued to drink from the bottle, the acid burned his throat but he didn't care. He wouldn't care.

John tore it away from him and he saw as Mike's eyes burned with unshed tears. "Give me the bottle, John! It was taking my pain away! I was gonna be okay!"

"You're not an alcoholic, baby."

Mike was shaking now, trembling and John leaned down, holding onto him, kissing his nose and Mike had whimpered; a soft, pained, slurred whimper. "John…"

"Shh…Mike…"

"John…it hurt…I swear it hurt so much."

"Shh…Mike…it's gonna be alright. I promise…"

Promises didn't mean anything and Mike knew that as he couldn't to shed his tears and bury his face into John's chest.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long. XP.**

**Review??**

**X Sam.**


	9. War

**And the story continues…though the chapter is very short. I know. No, I can't do better. XP.  
**

* * *

_Chapter Nine_: John Morrison & John Cena: **War**

* * *

**2:00**_; battle_

* * *

"You!"

John Morrison twisted his head towards John Cena who was standing there furiously, his pale skin burning red and his eyes burning with too much fury for two eyes to hold but Morrison shrugged it off.

Cena continued to shout.

"What in hell's name is wrong with Mike?! He won't fucking look at me!"

"He thought you two were dating and…you were, weren't you?"

"None of your business."

"You kissed Melina." (1).

"He knows about that?" Cena's eyes deflate from anger and fury and there was no emotion right now as Morrison nodded his head, his eyes hardening as he moved towards him and that almost caused Cena to fall from his place. "You will not touch my Mike…you won't dare hurt him, understand?"

"I won't hurt him."

"You already did! That was some sort of test. You kissed Melina back! He's devastated over it. You can't commit. Forget it."

Cena just stayed there for a moment before nodding his head. "Fine. I guess you're right."

Morrison moved away from Cena to walk towards Mike who stood there, eating another piece of cotton candy and Mike stopped eating when he saw John Morrison walking towards him, but a weak smile was there.

John's eyes scanned towards where people started marching.

"Parade! Wanna join, Mike?"

"I—um—"

"Come on, you love this sorta thing!"

Mike nodded his head and John grabbed onto his wrist and padded him over to the parade. "Hey, can we join?"

They just nodded their head. "March for a cause."

It was apparently for cancer and just as Mike grabbed a baton, John Cena had to join them and of course, they would love him to help them and John walked over there, grabbing onto a baton himself before they started to march again.

"Get away."

"Mike, we need to talk."

"Go away."

"Mike—"

Mike twirled the stick in his hand, not professionally, but had practiced the sport well enough to know how to do it well while John just tried to copy his movements.

"You are good at a lot of things. The toss game…baton twirling…"

"I was a flag twirler in my high school."

"For real?"

Mike scowled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I'd love to watch you twirl."

"Don't make me hard. I'm mad at you."

John chuckled. "That's more like the Mike I know."

"Who is the Mike you know?"

Mike allowed the baton to fall from his sweaty hands and he leaned down to pick it up and just as he did do that, the people behind him all fell over them both, causing John shaking his head. "This one. Clumsy, clumsy, Mike."

"I am not clumsy!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Am not!"

"You are!"

Both of their eyes locked with each other. "Whoever's on top of me, get off! You're crushing my spleen!"

As they all got up, Mike grabbed his baton and looked over at John, giggling.

"What's wrong with you?"

"For some reason, this makes me laugh."

"Cause it's so you?"

"Yeah…" Mike looked away, towards John Morrison and then back at Cena, his smile fell, 'I just don't understand…"

"I'm sorry for kissing Melina, Mike. You know me. I can change. If you give me a chance."

_Give me a chance…_

Mike's eyes went towards John Morrison, who stood there, glaring at Cena.

_Uh oh…_

"Don't touch him, Cena."

"What? You called dibs on Mike?"

"No! He's not an object!"

"You treat him like an accessory you carry around, Morrison."

"And kissing Melina is just the most loving thing to do."

"He's mine! HE BELONGS TO ME!"

Mike's eyes widened.

"_HE BELONGS TO ME!"_

That…

"I don't belong 'to anyone', Cena."

"See, Cena? Just get away." Morrison's hands were on Mike's shoulders, kissing the back of Mike's head.

"Oh, you may have won the battle but the war's not over yet, Morrison!"

* * *

**2:30**_; sleep_

* * *

Mike curled up towards John Morrison as they sat down on a bench, in the park part of the entire fair, John stared at Mike's face, peaceful as he slept. It would only be a few more moments before he had to nudge Mike awake. He only wanted to take a quick nap. But looking at the exotic brunette, he knew…

Mike was _his_.

* * *

_**(1) I accidentally wrote 'I killed Melina'. See how sadistic I am? XP.**_

**I think this is a filler chapter. Not much happened.**

**X Sam.**


	10. Weddings

**Haven't updated in a while…*Hides* do not kill me. I'm only human. Plus, I decided that I'll wrap this up soon. I'm sorry my dear followers. You can kill me if you'd like, I don't mind anymore!**

* * *

_Chapter Ten:_ John Morrison & The Miz: **Weddings**

* * *

**3:00**; _hurt_

* * *

"Tired?" Morrison asked, nudging Mike away from his slumber.

Mike allowed a soft smile to reach his lips. "Yes."

"Dreaming?"

Mike nodded his head softly, sadness overwhelming his soft face until Morrison felt a little uneasy having Mike around. He looked like he was trapped in reminiscing bad memories. Dreams, as the therapist, had said were made of goals and aspirations.

"What were you dreaming of?"

"A wedding," Mike's voice cracked slightly.

Morrison raised an eyebrow. "Really? Do you want to get married?"

"People change when they get married," Mike said, his voice small and timid, "and I don't know but I feel like I'll be myself when I'm together with someone. I don't know if it's me trying not to break a promise but..."

"We can have a pretend wedding."

"Then I think I'll pretend to be Mike again."

Morrison cupped Mike's face and stared straight into those depressed blue eyes before pressing his lips against Mike's own – there was a different flavour to what Mike was. The smell of weird perfume hung in the air and the feel of soft skin was just broken by the desolation that Mike had seemed to carry around.

Morrison stood up and then softly squeezed Mike's hand.

"If I pretend to be happy and in love, then will you play along?"

Mike had nodded his head, just wanting to find some sort of happiness. He hated that he made Morrison so broken-hearted. With that, Morrison took Mike towards the pink boat of the tunnel of love and watched Mike slowly step into it. He ran his fingers against his own hair slightly.

This wasn't supposed to be the scene. It was supposed to be all kinds of magical, with sparkly fake blue water and little hearts floating around. Had it been just their imagination last time they were there? Because everything seemed more beautiful and brighter. Morrison sat beside him, and Mike pressed his head against Morrison's shoulder but it felt more of obligation than it was reality.

Morrison laughed but it was a soft, weak, fake laugh and when he'd looked down, Mike wasn't laughing. He wasn't even trying. Morrison held Mike's hands together, softly squeezing them before giving him a smile that made Mike's heart hurt.

"You know," Morrison cocked his head to one side. "We can make this whatever you want. We just have to...create."

"Create," Mike echoed, but his voice was even more cracked now. Mike was miserable, and it hurt Morrison that he couldn't make him happy. All thoughts of plans and ploys seemed stupid. Morrison remembered flashes of John Cena making Mike laugh but all he could see now was the distressed Mike.

"Let's create something beautiful."

Mike closed his eyes. "Kind of like...dreaming."

"Dreaming in reality," Mike opened his eyes at that point and stared around but everything seemed so dull and colourless, nothing seemed to have the potential for anything. Not the glowing red hearts and the fake Cupid arrows that hung around them and the white fluffy teddy bears, "I'm trying so hard but—it all just seems fake to me."

"Before," Morrison had begun. "Before I used to stare up here and see rainbows out of everywhere. I'm not joking. I can taste every sweet taste of colour. Blue seemed like that blueberry scone from Starbucks you love so much. Red from kisses. The pinkness was of my niece's unicorn—which you broke by the way. The whiteness was just clouds. I felt like I was dreaming because everything was so surreal and lovely. Now, it's just...it's a nightmare. Everything looks so—"

"Gray," Mike finished off for him.

Their lips met and Morrison wanted it to be a head banging moment, but it was just like every other kiss today, nothing. It felt like nothing. There was no potential. There were just Mike's blue eyes staring up at him wondering what in hell's name went wrong with them and why they were here trying so hard to be romantic and lovely and happy. "No swans or flowers or...?" Morrison asked.

"Nothing. Just grayness," Mike added on. "This isn't fucking fair."

"No."

More silence.

Morrison stopped for a moment then pulled out a black box he'd always carried around in his pocket. "If I pretend to marry you...will you be Mike again?"

Mike had stared back at the black box as Morrison opened it up.

"Do you always carry around a ring with you?" Mike had inquired.

Morrison bit down his lower lip.

"I have the same dreams too." Morrison had taken the ring from the box and slowly slid it into Mike's hand. He didn't remember where this was from but it was vaguely familiar – almost as if he'd seen it before.

"You carry around a weird ring all the time?"

Morrison forced a smile on his lips before nodding. "I...I wanted to—for some time—to marry you."

Mike stretched a smile on his lips and Morrison was sure he'd seen the most beautiful thing in the world come alive again, lighting up his spirits. Morrison wanted to paint Mike on a canvas just to show the world how beauty can be. How far it can be stretched. Morrison held Mike's hands, now feeling the full softness of the skin.

* * *

**3:30**; insane

* * *

"You're fucking _insane_."

Mike watched as Cena approached him. His stomach hurt so badly right then as he'd tried to hide his ring away from Cena's prying eyes but apparently, it seemed like that was just what Cena was looking at.

"You're going off marrying him? Marrying him? How fucking high are you, Mizanin?"

"Who's marrying who...?"

They turned their heads to see Stephanie's slightly shocked face. Hunter was with her and was holding a teddy bear that he'd probably one her. Mike resisted the urge on saying that his teddy bear transvestite-girl was way better than Stephanie's much huger mammoth-sized teddy bear.

"Mike wants to marry John Morrison!"

Mike opened his mouth to say it was a 'pretend' marriage but then shut it up when he realised how stupid it all sounded.

"That's so adorable!" Stephanie had exclaimed. "My Father can actually fit that in the storyline. It can get you drafted back...I mean, we don't want to keep the happy couple apart, do we?"

Drafted back. Then he'd be Mike again, wouldn't he?

Mike grinned at her, the idea of him being happy again made him swoon. He remembered being in John's arms again, giggling, and then eating Ben and Jerry's out of a bowl when John would get it to him, taking bites from him and complaining that Mike was going to make him fat—Mike's heart thudded faster than ever. "Of course not!"

Cena's eyes widened. Mike was so fucking confusing sometimes. A few hours ago, he didn't even want to see Morrison. Now, he decided to marry him for God's sake. _Marry him_. He didn't even want to know what all kinds of wrong that sounded.

"I must talk with you, Mike! We have so much to discuss!"

"Who told you I was the lady?"

Stephanie stared at him. "Really...? I thought—"

Mike sighed softly. "I'm the lady. Let's go!"

Stephanie giggled and walked off with Mike, leaving Hunter and Cena alone. Cena stared back at Hunter with a shell-shocked face. Hunter raised an eyebrow, "love him?" Hunter asked.

"I didn't even notice him until today...that's what's fucking sick about it...it's all moving too fast. I feel like tomorrow, Mike's gonna get up and say he doesn't want to marry anyone and he just wants to be alone. He's so _bipolar_ sometimes..." Cena stopped for a moment.

"Bipolar."

* * *

**I win! Haha!**

**My actual Mizzy muse has ADHD...but let's not mention that here.**

**Mizzy: SHE GAVE ME BIPOLAR DISORDER?**

**Oh, and he's an alcoholic and a minor drug addict. Let's not mention that as well.**

**Have fun! xx Sam **


	11. Whisper

**Aha! I told you I'd update. I told you...and I'm going to give you a chapter full of shit happening. So Cena thinks Mike is bipolar? And is that true? And pay extreme attention to the flashback in this chapter. I'm trying to make it saner but I cannot. I'm not very good at doing mental disorders. I'm trying to "**_**write more out of experience**_**" type thing but the only experience I have is made out of a skin disorder! And nobody wants to read that! I can be graphic in that either way and explain how the skin looks like and everything and can even dabble a bit around emotions. 0:)**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_: John Cena & John Morrison: **Whisper**

* * *

**4:00**, _citalopram_

* * *

"_You seem a little stressed..."_

_John was underestimating it. Mike looked like he was dead in depression. His pale skin was grayish in the sunlight and Mike didn't like talking to anyone anymore. That familiar rosy glow was replaced by nothing but grayness. John could almost taste the distress just by looking at him, as if he was wearing it as a perfume. "I am," Mike responded, not even bothering to smile._

_John had moved towards him and had produced a silver sheet of medication into his hands, before giving it to Mike. "Citalopram," John knew it was an anti-depressant and from the looks of it, Mike needed it._

_Mike nodded his head and popped a pill into his mouth before staring back at him._

"_You don't mind that it's an anti-depressant...?"_

"_I am depressed, John. There's no point in playing pretend. I'm tired of pretending." Mike's voice was soft. "This is me. I am depressed."_

"_You don't have to be."_

"_Not anymore," Mike pushed back the silvery sheet back into his pockets before producing a weak smile but to John, that was enough. "See you on set," and with that, John disappeared. He didn't know what brought him near Mike anyway. It was the fact that he'd just noticed how depressed he'd looked, how much he was yearning for some sort of attention to be given to him – and for some reason, he felt good about giving him the citalopram right now. He really thought it could help Mike._

John remembered that that was when the depression had started.

He'd moved towards Morrison first, grabbing him by his hand and looking at him. Cena curled up his pink lips. "I think...I think Mike has bipolar disorder," Cena finally came out with it.

Morro stared back at him. "How dare you accuse Mike of having a mental illness?"

"He can't snap out of his depression. He pretends to be happy, Morro. He's fucking depressed and he wasn't like that two months ago. I can tell he tries to be happy but fails at it so miserably. Think about it. When Mike is depressed, how long is he depressed for? It's not the normal depression and his happiness isn't normal. When he's happy, I swear he talks like he owns the world..." Cena chuckled softly. That was a quality about Mike he'd often loved. "But it's worse now. I don't know why it's starting to be worse but it is—and we've got to stop it. I don't care if you decide to run off and marry Mike for all I care but he's bipolar. I know he is."

Morro's eyes were hardening. "He is bipolar."

"You've always known."

Morro nodded his head. "But he was getting better. I fell in love with him when he was having a mania episode. I know his little habits. I know that he doesn't have low lows or high highs but I know that for one reason, it's always affected him in ways. He'd drink more than usual sometimes, he'd trash the house looking for pills, he'd claim he was never going to get out of the house again and sometimes he won't and sometimes he'd be asleep all the time and if I wake him up, all I'm going to get is a bitching at. He has rapid cycles. An average bipolar patient cycles 3 times a year but he cycles from episodes at least 5 times more in a year. He has mixed states sometimes. He'd be so happy and want to party all the time and go and drink and then cry and feel sad...but that was okay because I could keep it in control when I was around him. I knew how to keep his disorder away from everyone else. I knew what would make him stay in control. I knew how much he could drink before it became too much. I was there every night when he was vomiting out alcohol, holding him...and I know."

Cena felt a stab of guilt nowadays. "This is why you want to marry him?"

"I want to marry him because he's afraid of being alone. He can't control himself, Cena. He's not insane but depression really impairs his judgment with things and that's what I used against him. I asked him to marry me when he was depressed and he said yes. When he's happy and elated, all he's going to wonder is what kind of mistake he made but I know how to take care of him. I'm afraid if I give him over to you, you'll just wreck him. You're not used to his episodes. You're not used to having someone that can be an emotional wreck."

Cena bit down his lower lip. "How do you know that I can't take care of him?" his voice was strong. "Just a few weeks back, I gave him some citalopram for his depression. He's doing better than he was then..."

"Citalopram?" Morro repeated with a strong voice.

"Yes."

"Did you give him a mood stabilizer after that?"

"No."

"You fucking..._idiot_..."

* * *

**4:30**, _cold_

* * *

Morro was looking around for Mike in a moment before Cena started talking. "I don't understand how bad this could be—"

Morro looked like he was going to explode. "Whenever you give a patient with bipolar type I disorder citalopram without a mood stabilizer, they will go into mania! This all makes sense. Mike was tired the morning I woke him up and now I feel bad. Whenever he goes into a mixed state, he gets little to no sleep. In a mixed episode, mania and depression happen all at once. He's impulsive and anything you say can and will irritate him, and he usually feels guilty and anxious and angry. He gets into fits of being angry with everyone, including himself. This is the worst episode he can ever get into, Cena! What are you thinking of? Giving citalopram to him? You aren't supposed to give those! They aren't over the fucking counter in this region for a reason!"

Morro thought for a moment. "How did you get citalopram?"

"I got it for my..."

Morro raised an eyebrow. "Truth. Now."

"Girlfriend."

Morro's eyes widened for a moment. "You were kissing him and you had a girlfriend? What's her fucking name? And why does she need citalopram?"

"She has an anxiety disorder so I had to switch her meds into something safer..."

"Why?" Morro's eyes hardened now as he stared at him with spearing eyes. "Why does she need a safer dosage? Is she getting better?"

Cena bit down his lower lip. "Why do you know so much about mental disorders anyway?"

"I know if you need a different dosage then something's been done to enable it. I lived with a broken family, Cena. I had a bipolar sister, a schizophrenic Mother, a Father that had OCD...they wondered why the hell I turned out so normal. I am the only thing that keeps my family together. Then my sister got married and I can't take care of her anymore. I got adhered to Mike easily because I know so much about bipolar disorder though my sister had Bipolar type II, instead of Mike's bipolar type I but I knew how to help him. I knew what would make him stay sane and you..._you hurt him_."

Cena cringed.

"YOU HURT HIM!"

Cena opened his mouth to speak, his lips now trembling. "She needed a safer dosage because she's pregnant."

Cena turned around to hide his shameful face before he was met with Mike Mizanin's colourless face, as he stared at him with wide eyes and an "o" shaped mouth. "Mike..." Morro and Cena said but their voices combined were so small that they barely made it to the sound of a whisper.

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_**Told you.**_

**Anyway—I made this up as I went along! Very cool. I think I'm obsessed with making Cena seem like a bad guy for just a minute there. You don't have to ask Sam how to make any fic in the world dramatic, right? ;) **

**Sorry I haven't updated sooner you guys. I have a huge infection on my leg and finally made my way downstairs to write! :( I think I may write a couple more chapters and post them when I can go downstairs again. The idea of me moving around makes me nauseated as I cannot move around for long. **_**00Rainbow-Star00**_**, I know all things that are not good for health! Specifically this horrible painful infection I have. Maybe it'll get better once I put this chapter up. At least my guilt has gone away. I haven't updated on this story for a while so I want to finish it before July ends. I planned another 8 chapters before I close this thing up. Enjoy! **

**xx love you all, _Sam_. **


	12. World

**Now that we've highlighted a bit of Morro's past, let's slide into the ferris wheel part of this entire story. The story is called Ferris Wheel for a reason. ;) Oops. Where I meant to say 'Morrison', instead I said Morro. Believe me guys, I am EXTREMELY lazy and I'm sorry. Maybe I'll fix it laters :S  
**

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**Chapter Twelve**: John Cena & The Miz: _World_

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**5:00**, _truth_

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"Mike..."

Mike's eyes were coloured in grey-blue before he turned around and held his head into his hands. "Mike," Cena tried to reach for him before Mike slapped his hand away and Mike turned around so Cena could face the mess he'd created. Tears rolled down heavily down Mike's eyes, accompanied by little chortles of laughter. Cena tried to reach out to touch him but Mike slapped his hand away.

"Mike..."

Mike's laughter erupted then. Morro cringed. This wasn't a good sign at all. Morro moved towards him and held him tightly, stroking his hair for a second. Mike was grinning a painful grin into Morro's arms, still laughing as tears rolled down his face. Mike looked like he was full of energy. Mike's feet were moving, his hands playing with each other behind Morro's back.

"Mike, I know you're upset," Morro tried to lightly dab his fingers against his face.

"No, I'm not upset," he responded and Cena noticed how animated his voice was. He grabbed onto Morro and Cena's hands. "I'm just a little sad because you won't let me ride the ferris wheel with you two. So come on, let's go ride the ferris wheel!"

"This isn't so bad..." Cena tried to tell Morro.

"It's a mixed mania episode. He's not thinking clearly. His emotions are all over the place and it's controlling him! What do you mean it's not this bad? I never saw his mood jump so fast and easily. He can't handle all of these events according at once, you're hurting him! You're fucking hurting him."

"He isn't hurting me," Mike responded again, saying his sentence in one fluid second before he moved towards the hot dog stand where a man was cutting the hot dog bun with a knife. Mike grabbed it in one quick movement before shoving the tip of the knife towards his arm recklessly. "This would be hurting me."

Morro grabbed onto Mike, holding onto the knife and sliding it out of his arm. The cut was deep yet Mike showed no signs of pain.

"We're taking you home," Cena told him.

"No, I want my ferris wheel ride!" Mike pouted, grabbing onto Morro's and Cena's hands again and then moving them towards the ferris wheel ride.

"What would you give him to calm him down during these states?"

"I don't let him leave the room in this state! I let him stay in the room with no sharp object in the way to let him hurt him. I have a room for this at my own house. It was my sister's depressed mood. You see, last time he had a mixed episode; he almost put his hands in the laundry machine to see what will happen to them! This is bad. This is very bad, Cena. This is horrible. When he's depressed, he has no energy to even kill himself and when he's in mania, it's all about letting everyone fuck him and buying jewelry that he'll never wear! When he's having a mixed episode... You hurt him! You hurt him bad..." Morro hissed at him.

"He won't kill himself," Cena offered with a soft smile.

"Look! The ferris wheel is pretty." Mike said, gawking at it in full amazement. "We're going." He said in a stern voice.

"Fine," Cena responded.

"You! I want to take him—"

Mike shoved them past the people, screaming at all of them and kicked past women and children when Cena tried to explain to them that Mike was bipolar. Morro was whispering something into Mike's ear but Mike seemed to shrug him off. Mike had gotten on the ferris wheel, pushing them inside. Mike grinned at them happily.

"This is where we first kissed, Morro. Isn't it so cliché?"

Mike wrapped his arms around Morro and kissed him strongly, leaving Morro to slowly hold his shoulders. Mike forced him on top of him. "W-what?" Morro stared as Mike's eyes looked at him with grief.

"I feel guilty, you know." Mike had finally let out, his voice still full of vivaciousness. "Sleeping with those people when we were together. I'm a fucking whore. I kissed Cena when he was going to have a baby." He let out an heart-shattering grin that made Cena nearly close to tears.

"But that's okay..."

"Don't worry, folks! It's just some technical difficulties."

"Stuck in a ferris wheel," Mike laughed again, tears rolling down his eyes. "So fucking cliché, Morro. I hate this romantic atmosphere, makes me think of all the wrong I've done...makes me want to—"

"No," Morro softly told him, holding onto his hands. "Please listen to me, Mike."

"No."

"Mike-"

"No! _Lalalalala_!" Mike sang, pulling out a bottle out of his backpack and then opening the bottle of whiskey before drowning a quarter of it in one gulp. Cena was worrying that Mike would choke on the whiskey for a moment there and before anyone could talk, Mike continued to add on his own views. "I'm gonna marry you and you're going to make me happy. Fucking euphoric."

"Mike—"

"_Please_." Right now, his eyes looked full of grief and desolation before he let out a laugh. "I'm a terrible actor. You know, I remember being here last time, you complained about how weird it was that John and that blonde chick from Dear John never got together in the end of the movie and that you still don't get the moon reference and—"

"You watch Dear John?" Cena asked.

"Shut up."

"Yeah. And he also—"

"Mikeeeey."

"Call me Mikey again and I might knock this bottle of whiskey on your face but then again, I want to drink it. It tastes so good and bitter and—"

Cena chuckled. "Mike needs to sober up I guess. He can't think of anything potentially harming when he's drunk, can he?"

"Shut up! He's going to. I fear he is." Morro curled his tongue into his mouth, biting it with nervousness against his face. "He can't think straight when he's in a mixed episode. Alcohol is the worst thing you could possibly give him for fuck's sake. Mike! Can you see me?"

"Who? Angelina Jolie?"

"Enough with the Jolie jokes!"

"Can't help it. You're as skinny as her." Mike took another swig of whiskey from the bottle. "This is why I don't fear you snatching this bottle away from me."

"The only reason I'm not snatching that bottle away from you is because you're gonna claw my face and get it back anyway. Mike, you have to stop. You're not thinking clearly." Morro begged him.

"No." Mike said, no stern as he threw the empty bottle on the floor. "I'm thinking fineeeeee. So, how's your baby, Cena? How is she? Or he...?"

Cena's eyes were full of some sort of guilt. "She...she's doing fine."

He'd never seen Mike so torn in emotions and just as he was about to grab a hold of his hands, Mike looked at him before and let his emotions be his words. "I can fly, you know," he said, laughing softly. "Fly..."

Mike slipped back, eyes shutting tightly.

Cena stared back at Morro whom had tears running down his eyes.

"Morrison?" Cena asked, holding his shoulder. "John?"

"I'm afraid he'll hurt himself. I really don't know what to do anymore. I've never seen him so...elated and depressed at the same time," Morro shook his head. "Not even when he bought me three different houses with my credit card when I didn't need them. I can't believe I let him get away from my fingers and slip away. I didn't even think of what it may be doing to his personality."

"It's not your fault. I gave him the citalopram."

"Which only an idiot would do," Morro retorted before laughing sadly at his own joke. "I just want to get off this ride when it's out and go home and give him citalopram with a mood stabilizer. He's not thinking clearly. When that happens, he's going to be angry at me, call off the engagement and threw things at the both of us but at least he'd be able to think...I thought this day would actually be good. I thought I could get him to lighten up slightly, give him his dosage and maybe get back together with him so I could look out for him. It was never meant to go this far. Now it's too far and I don't know how to fix him."

"Sure you can! You had your experience of your sister's bipolar disorder, yeah? You can!"

"...my sister died."

"But it's not your fault the world is fucking unfair."

"She died but the world isn't fucking unfair...I..." Morro finally let the words slide out of his lips, as he held his head into his hands. His heart was pounding in his chest. "She died _because of me_."

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**Now that was cute.**

**XP**

**xx Sam**


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